Happier Times
by RavenclawHobbit
Summary: Bilbo and Frodo Yuletime one-shot, pre-quest. Beware of fluffiness, corniness, and complete lack of plot, I just enjoy imagining how peaceful and happy our dear hobbits must have been before the quest and the ring tore their world apart. Crit is welcome, but do be gentle-this is my first LOTR fic!


Bilbo staggered up the snowy walk, leaning into the biting wind which blew tiny snowflakes helter-skelter around him. With one hand he was hauling a worn leather suitcase, and the other clutched his hat, which was threatening to be swept off into the gale.

He knocked twice on the great oaken door of Brandy Hall, and waited. There were sounds of scuffling, singing, hollering, and all manner of chaos from within. He was just thinking he ought to knock again when the door flew open. Saradoc had maneuvered the handle ajar using mainly his elbow, as he had a handful of evergreen boughs in one hand, and a babbling Merry in the other. The curly-haired infant ceased his wordless babble when he saw the newcomer, and regarded him with curiosity.

"Well, Happy Yule, Cousin Bilbo!" Saradoc exclaimed, pushing the door open farther with his foot and ushering Bilbo inside. At the words _Cousin Bilbo_, a delighted shriek had issued from the next room. Saradoc stepped back as if he knew what was coming. Bilbo stood on the doormat with his cloak half off when, without warning, something whacked him with the force of a small hurricane. Bilbo was knocked clean off his feet and landed on his back with an _oof!_

"Whoops-a-daisy," said a voice, as quiet as a mouse. Bilbo sat up, feeling dizzy. Two huge blue eyes stared up at him in horror.

"Uncle Bilbo okay?" asked Frodo with both arms still wrapped around Bilbo's knees.

"Quite alright, sprout," Bilbo lied, trying not to grimace as he rubbed the tender spot on the back of his head. He reached out a hand to ruffle Frodo's hair. Content that he had done no damage, the lad's smile returned.

"He's been asking about you nonstop all week," Primula mused from her perch on a stepladder, arranging the evergreens as Saradoc passed them up to her. "I do believe his favorite part of Yule is when his favorite cousin comes to visit."

Frodo nodded enthusiastically. His thick brown curls bounced in and out of his eyes.

"You've gotten tall, my boy," said Bilbo affectionately.

Frodo stood up on his tiptoes, as if to prove this point. "I'm almost as tall as Beri now!"

"Are not!" called Berilac's voice from down the hall.

"'Said almost!" protested Frodo. Saradoc offered Bilbo a hand to help him to his feet and invited him into the sitting room. Frodo took it upon himself to steer his cousin through the crowded hallway, prattling nonstop.

"…And Merry learned how to say my name last week, except he can't say it right so he crawls around behind me calling 'Fro! Fro!'…"

Being dragged along behind the lad, Bilbo tried his best to greet his many relations milling around the corridor and sipping hot cider. Brandy Hall was bustling with hobbits at the best of times, and during the holidays it was an outright menagerie.

"…And Mummy's making gingerbread and Aunt Esme let me help put the tinsel on the tree and…"

"Cousin Bilbo!"

Frodo's chatter was cut short by the appearance of Drogo in the doorway of the sitting room. Frodo dropped Bilbo's hand and allowed his father to scoop him up.

* * *

"Tell the Gollum one again!" Frodo bounced happily on Bilbo's knee.

"We've already done that one twice tonight, sprout!"

"Please?"

Bilbo was settled comfortably into an overstuffed armchair encircled with eager listeners. Most were aged from 4 to 20, but a few tweens milled around the edge of the semicircle, caught in that awkward stage of being too "grown up" to be seen listening, but secretly wanting to hear.

"Pleeeeeease, Uncle Bilbo?"

Bilbo sighed. The blue eyes were focusing their full charm on him.

"Now, it was just after I'd been lost from the Company on my adventure, Frodo, and I awoke to find myself in a dark cavern…"

* * *

"You skipped the egg one!" Frodo glowered accusingly. Bilbo sighed again. His attempts to shorten the tale for the other listeners' sakes could not escape the scrutiny of this inquisitive young hobbit!

"Ah, my mistake. That was when I said, '_A box without hinges, key, or lid,__yet golden treasure inside is hid'__…"_

* * *

The night wore on, and slowly, the various Brandybucks, Bolgers, Burrows and Bagginses began to call it a night. Soon, only Berilac and Frodo remained of Bilbo's crowd, and his voice was getting rather hoarse.

"Kiss your Uncle Bilbo goodnight, dearest," Primula cooed, lifting her son off Bilbo's lap.

"Mummy, I'm not tired!" Frodo whined. No sooner were the words out than a traitorous yawn undermined his protest.

"You too, Berilac," Merimac said. Beri folded his arms grumpily.

"Now, lads," Bilbo chided playfully, wagging a reproving finger. "How is Father Yule to come if there are little hobbits up and around? Run along, now, and I'll see you both in the morning." He gave both boys a parting hug before their parents ushered them upstairs.

"Quietly!" Esme warned as they left. "Sara's only just gotten Meriadoc to settle down for the night!"

Bilbo scooched his chair closer to the fire and took a sip of hot coco. After a few minutes, Primula, Drogo, Saradoc and Merimac tiptoed back down the stairs with hassled but victorious looks on their faces and took their seats as well. About 10 minutes passed. The entire party was startled by the sudden appearance of a nightshirt-clad Frodo. He dragged a disheveled stuffed dragon behind him by its tail. No one had heard him approach.

"What are you doing up, Frodo?" asked Primula.

"Not tired, Mummy."

"But it's bedtime, sweetie." She took him by the hand and marched him back up the stairs.

Twenty minutes went by. Bilbo pulled out a folder of notes about his adventures—he had recently decided to organize them into a book, a biography of sorts. He put on his spectacles and shuffled through the papers, making an effort to put them in order. But a tiny sneeze made them all glance up to see a curly head peering around the doorjamb.

"Frodo, I thought Mummy told you—"

"I'm thirsty, Daddy."

"I'll get you a glass of water, but then you really must stay in bed, Frodo," said Drogo, standing up and trying to look stern. Frodo nodded submissively, but added in a whisper, "Sparky wants a glass of water too."

"Who?"

Frodo indicated the stuffed dragon. Drogo sighed.

Finally, when Frodo had been abed an hour with no further excursions downstairs, the adults decided he must finally be asleep.

"We'll peek our heads in to make sure before we go to bed." Drogo said, stifling a yawn. He and Primula stood up to leave.

"Perhaps we all ought to retire. Big day tomorrow, after all." Said Saradoc. "Good night,"

"Good night," said Bilbo. "I'll turn in myself in a few minutes, just want to finish putting these notes together."

"Alright. See you in the morning."

Bilbo was alone with only the dying fire for company. He pushed his spectacles farther up his nose and bent over a copy of Thorin's map that Gandalf had found for him. His own accounts of the journey through Mirkwood didn't quite match up with the information on the map. He was so intent trying to figure out what had gone wrong, he didn't notice the hushed footsteps until a tiny hand reached out and grabbed at his knee.

"Frodo, it's nearly midnight!"

Frodo glanced down at his feet. "I'm sorry, Uncle Bilbo."

"What's the matter?"

"I can't sleep."

Bilbo thought fleetingly of going to wake Primula, or perhaps of creeping upstairs and tucking the child in himself. But in the end, he relented, tipped the papers unceremoniously onto the end table, and scooped Frodo up onto his lap. He pressed the lad's head into his chest and stroked his hair gently.

It wasn't long before Frodo's breathing became deep and peaceful. Bilbo lifted him up carefully and carried him to his own room. He laid Frodo down in the bed, arranged Sparky and the two other well-loved teddies around him, and pulled the covers over his sleeping cousin's shoulders. Then, with a stealth only hobbits or Rangers could have achieved, he snuck back to the door.

When he turned to blow out the candle, he saw a pair of wide-open blue eyes staring back at him.

"Uncle Bilbo!" Frodo whispered.

"What is it, lad?"

"It's only just started, and I've already had the best Yule ever!"


End file.
